


Logan Road Trip

by kenchang



Category: Wolverine (Movies)
Genre: Explicit Language, Family Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-20 20:16:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14901269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenchang/pseuds/kenchang
Summary: A father and a daughter try to find their place in a world that fears and hates them.





	1. Faith

**Author's Note:**

  * For [janahjean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/janahjean/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Roadtrip Series](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10691475) by [janahjean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/janahjean/pseuds/janahjean). 



> DISCLAIMER: I do not own Marvel characters and I make no money from this fan fiction.
> 
> I have taken some liberty with the characters and story (i.e. no Eden) so don't expect too much accuracy to the film or the characters in it.

I'm the best there is at what I do. But apparently, that doesn't include fatherhood. My young daughter, Laura, hasn't eaten all day. I haven't eaten in two.

We're mutants. Two of the very few left in the world. Like me, Laura has a healing factor. Our injuries heal much faster than normal, so it's not like we're going to die of hunger anytime soon. I once went without food for what felt like months. But a man takes pride in being able to provide for his family. And every time I hear my daughter's stomach growl, my pride takes a beating.

Also, I need food to keep my strength up. We been on the road for some time now. Some really bad men and women are after us. Why? Because we're different. And for some people, that's as good enough a reason as any to hate.

I park the old pickup truck in front of a white, wooden gate and check the address on the flyer to make sure. I gently shake Laura awake. Been letting her get a lot of sleep to make up for the hunger.

"Wake up," I say. "We're here."

"Where?", she asks drowsily.

"Where it says on the ad. Come on. Bring your backpack. And don't forget. My name's Jim, and your name is Barbara. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Say it."

She rolls her eyes, exhales in annoyance, and says, "You're Jim. I'm Barbara."

"Good. Don't forget."

There's a bell hanging near the gate. Not a doorbell. An actual bell. And I ring it. Yea, we're definitely in the sticks now. There's a path that leads from the gate to a simple two story house. And from the front door of this house exits this stunning, blond Southern belle.

"Holy shit," I exclaim. Then I quickly say to Laura, "That's a bad word, okay? Don't you ever say that."

"You said two words," she corrects me.

"Don't get smart."

"Good morning," the blond greets us in a Southern twang. "Can I help you?"

"Good morning," I greet her back. "My name's Logan, and this is my daughter, Laura." Shit. Fake names. Forgot the fake names. "I'm here about the job." I show her the flyer.

She looks me over, sizing me up, then asks, "Are you good with your hands?"

If she only knew. I have razor sharp claws that I can pop out through the gaps between my knuckles. I was trained by a Japanese sword master. I am very good with my hands.

"I'm the best there is at what I do," I answer confidently.

"Why do you have to keep saying that?", Laura grumbles. Then her stomach growls, and she blushes.

The blond laughs and asks, "My God, when was the last time you two had a decent meal?"

"A while," Laura answers sheepishly.

"Well, come on inside and join me. I was just about to have lunch myself."

#

The Southern belle's name is Faith Shelton. She inherited this farm from her folks. Unmarried, no kids, her parents are deceased, but she has two older brothers working in the nearest city, both of them musicians, who visit often. She's also a damn good cook. But I could be biased. Hell, if you haven't eaten anything in two days, an old leather belt might taste good.

After lunch, we talk about the particulars of the job. Handiwork mostly. A leaking barn roof here, a broken fence there, some plumbing. Faith says that she can look after Laura, so I leave the two ladies alone to assess the damage. Kelly, a farmhand, shows me around.

After about an hour or two, I climb down the barn roof and walk back to the house. On my way there, I hear a sound that I don't hear often. Laura's laughter. I follow the sound to a room on the second floor and I knock on the door.

"Come in," Faith chirps.

I open the door and see them seated in front of a dressing table with a mirror. Faith had styled Laura's hair differently. I don't know how to describe it. Braids or something. I'm not good with hairstyles. If you could see my hairdo, you'd immediately agree with me.

"What do you think?", Faith asks me. And Laura turns her head to proudly show me.

"It's nice. I like it," I answer. I honestly wouldn't know either way.

They giggle to each other.

"I made a list of things you'll need for the repairs," I tell her and hand her a small sheet of paper.

She quickly scans it and says, "Okay. I can get all these today. Would you and Laura mind accompanying me? I don't want to have to go back if I get the wrong thing."

"We can go with you. Part of the service."

She nods then smiles at Laura and says, "We're going to have so much fun!"

#

We walk to the nearby shopping mall. Yea, even small towns like this have shopping malls nowadays. Faith and Laura won't stop talking. I worry a little that Laura might slip up and tell Faith that we're on the lam. They bond easily, much faster than it was for me and Laura. But I guess I'm to blame for that. Not easy for me to let people into my life. We get the stuff we need. Faith treats us to hotdogs and ice cream. If you didn't know us, you'd think we were a family.

And that's when it hits me. Not only am I not a good father, but I'm an even worse mother. Maybe Laura needs a woman like Faith in her life. Hell, maybe I do, too.

We take everything back to the house, and I offer to get back to work.

"Are you serious?", Faith asks. "It's so late. You won't be able to see a thing."

"I've got really good eyesight," I answer. That's an understatement, since my mutant gifts also include enhanced senses.

"Well, as your boss, I won't allow it. You could hurt yourself. You'll get to work tomorrow morning."

I'd rather get this thing over with so that Laura and I can get back on the road as soon as possible. But Faith might get suspicious and ask me why I'm in such a hurry, so I reluctantly agree. I ask her for directions to the nearest motel.

She replies, "You'll never find a place at this hour. You and your daughter can stay here. We have a guest room."

"We've imposed too much on your hospitality already."

"Nonsense. These are tough times. If we don't help each other, who will?"

There's a part of my mind that thinks it's a trap, that Faith is some crazy hillbilly who plans to lock us up in the basement so that we can be her pretend family. But that's probably just my distrustful nature.

#

It was great sleeping in an actual bed after days of sleeping in a pickup. So great, in fact, that I decide not to wake Laura so that she can enjoy it longer. I'd want to sleep some more, too. But I've got work to do. I go downstairs and find Faith busy in the kitchen.

She turns her head when she hears me and says, "Have a seat. Breakfast's almost ready."

There's something mesmerizing about watching her cook. It's like watching an artist paint a masterpiece. Doesn't hurt that she's easy on the eyes, too. She catches me staring and gives me what appears to be a naughty smile. Or it could just be my imagination. Either way, I quickly clear my throat, smile back, and look away. Too late, of course.

We have small talk during breakfast. I tell her about how I used to be a limo driver in the big city. I'm careful not to mention the part about the heavily armed men and women after us, and about how many of them I've already killed with the claws I hide in my forearms.

I excuse myself after breakfast and get to work on the repairs. I finish everything in one day. That's courtesy of my healing factor. I don't tire easily. I can work hard straight at the same pace without ever taking a break. Hope the other farm laborers don't get suspicious.

#

"I still can't believe you fixed everything in one day!", Faith exclaims as she pays me. "Three men still would have taken a whole week. You're worth every penny. You probably saved me a lot of money."

"Well, like I said," I reply. "I'm the best there is-"

"Don't. Just don't," Laura grumbles.

Faith laughs and offers, "Let me fix you two dinner. To celebrate!"

Laura's face brightens. She stares up at me, her wide eyes pleading silently.

"You don't have to do that," I tell my daughter. "I've already tasted this woman's cooking. She's a genius in the kitchen. I'm not gonna refuse."

I don't think I've ever seen Laura smile as happily as she's smiling now.

Dinner is predictably amazing. And so is the conversation. Being around Faith is comfortable. It feels right. And it makes Laura happy. Hell, it makes me happy.

Much later, back at the guest room, as I tuck Laura into bed, my daughter whispers, "I like her."

"I like her, too," I admit.

I go back downstairs to thank our host, and I find her sitting in a couch in front of the fireplace, an open bottle of whiskey in her hand.

She holds the bottle up to me and says, "Wanna help me really celebrate?"

"Haven't had whiskey in a while," I answer. "I'm not about to say no to that, Darlin'."

I take the bottle, take a sip, and then join her on the couch.

"Darlin'," she repeats back to me, like she's tasting the word. "I like that."

She leans over to me. I haven't had a woman in a while, too. So I don't say no to that either. We kiss passionately, and I spend the night with her in her bed.

#

"Laura. Laura, wake up," I whisper, as I rouse her around two in the morning.

She opens her eyes, realizes that it's still dark outside, then very warily asks me, "What is it?"

But I can see in her eyes that she already knows the answer to that question. I can also see that she's about to throw a fit. I don't want her to wake up Faith, so I tell her, "Outside."

#

As I expected, the moment we step outside, Laura yells at me, "I don't want to go!"

"We have to," I answer. "There are dangerous people after us. You know that."

"We haven't seen nor heard from them in over a week. Maybe we're safe. Maybe they can't find us here."

"But what if they do? Faith and her workers could get hurt. Trust me. You do not want that on your conscience."

She looks down. Her eyes quickly move from side to side, like she's desperately searching the ground for an alternative. She comes up with one.

"We take her with us," she suggests.

"Don't be ridiculous," I answer.

"It's not your choice. Ask her!"

"No."

"Why not?! She might say yes!"

"That's what I'm afraid of!", I admit. "She'll leave this great life she has here and all the people that love her to live a life on the run with us! And I don't want that for her. Hell, I don't want it for us, but we have to live that life. She doesn't!"

"You're afraid 'cause you're a coward!", she lashes out. "That's why you have to decide for everyone. For me! You don't even have the guts to tell her we're leaving!"

"If I tell her, she wouldn't need to do much to convince me to stay. Because I want this life for you. I want you to have a normal home. I want us to be a normal family."

"Then why don't we?!"

"BECAUSE WE'RE NOT NORMAL!"

I pop the claws out of my right fist. It's not to scare her. I know my daughter. Nothing scares her. I do it to remind her of what we are and to stress the point. Because my words were clearly not enough.

And she gets it. The reality of our plight dawns on her, and she begins weeping silently. I'm used to her just being sullen all the time. I think I prefer that, because seeing her like this is breaking my heart.

"Can I write her a letter?", she asks.

Might not be smart to leave some kind of evidence behind, but she's giving up so much already.

I retract the claws and answer calmly, "Yea. You can write her a letter. You don't need to sign it or anything. She'll know it's from you."

#

I don't read the letter. Whatever's written in it is between Laura and Faith. Faith is still sound asleep when we enter her room. I don't worry about waking her. My daughter and I can be extremely stealthy when we need to be. Laura leaves the letter under a paperweight on the nightstand. I can see that she wants to wrap her arms around the sleeping beauty one last time. Can't say I blame her. I wanna take Faith in my arms, too. But neither of us do, and we quietly exit the room.

#

I glance over at Laura in the passenger seat of the old pickup as we drive out of town. She understandably looks emotionally drained. Hasn't said a word since we left Faith's bedroom.

"I've done this a hundred times before," I confess. "Walked away from a countless number of loved ones. The loneliness can be unbearable. But I want you to know that you will never have to feel that. Because you will never be alone. I will always be there for you. Always."

She says nothing. I don't know if she even heard a single word of what I just said. She had cried herself to sleep.

END


	2. Middle of Nowhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mutant father and daughter continue to search for a place to call home. Will a hotel in the middle of nowhere be safe enough? And has Laura finally found her first real friend in the rebellious teen, Hillary?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, I'm straying even further from the source material here. Also, I'm changing the rating. As you all know, sometimes stories write themselves. This one took a sudden violent turn. Which I suppose I should have expected. It's Logan after all.

Logan is relieved to see the Middle of Nowhere Hotel sign in the distance. They had been driving for days. And with the money he made at Faith's farm, they can afford to spend a few days in an actual room. Maybe even longer if he can get some kind of temporary work in town.

"At least it doesn't say Bates Motel, right?", he jokingly tells Laura.

"Why?", Laura asks. "What's wrong with the Bates Motel?"

"The Bates Motel. Psycho. You know." Logan starts making knife stabbing motions with his hand while mimicking the background music from the film.

"What are you doing?"

"Nevermind. It's before your time," Logan grumbles, then drives the pickup towards the hotel.

#

"Evening, folks!", the middle aged man behind the counter cheerfully greets them. "I'm Arthur Pinkerton. Welcome to the Middle of Nowhere." He announces the name of the hotel in an eerie fashion.

Logan isn't impressed and ignores the theatrics. "Evening," he greets him back casually. "Name's Logan-"

"Jim!" Laura quickly corrects him.

"Uh, I mean J-Jim."

Arthur eyes him curiously and asks, "I'm sorry. Is it Logan or Jim?"

"Both," Logan answers nervously. "Jim Logan. I have two first names."

"I see. And your last name?"

"P-Pinkerton."

Laura nearly slaps herself in the forehead.

"We have the same surname?", Arthur asks.

"Yea!" Logan laughs uneasily. "How about that? This is my daughter, Laura-"

"Barbara!", Laura corrects him again.

"Laura Barbara. Laura Barbara Pinkerson-"

"Pinkerton!"

"Pinkerton."

"Nice to meet you," Arthur greets her. "Would you like a room?"

"Yes, please!", Laura hurriedly answers before her father can say anything else.

#

"Maybe we should stop using fake names," Laura suggests after Arthur leaves them in their room. "You suck at it."

"Hey, I'll have you know, I was an undercover agent back in Madripoor," Logan counters.

"I know. You told me. You wore an eye patch. Stupid disguise. What were you pretending to be? A pirate?"

"Don't get smart."

They sleep soundly. The room is small. The mattresses are old. The bedsteads creaked and are in need of repair. But for people accustomed to sleeping in the back of a pickup, or in the cab during rainy days, it's a five star hotel.

#

The next day, Logan leaves Laura in the room so that he can see if there is any available work in the nearby town. But as he descends the stairs, Arthur invites him and his daughter to breakfast.

"I didn't know our stay comes with a complimentary breakfast," Logan responds.

"It doesn't. But my wife made more than enough. Besides, you and I could be distant relatives."

"How's that?"

Arthur wrinkles his forehead. "Because we have the same surname?"

"We do? I mean, we do! Yea, we'll join you for breakfast. I'll go get Laura."

Breakfast is pleasant. Arthur's wife, Gwen, is a good cook, though not nearly as good as Faith. Their son, Arthur junior, lives with his wife in town, so he could not join them.

The Pinkertons are cheerful company, save for their teenage daughter, Hillary. She never smiles nor speaks to their guests during breakfast. Without excusing herself, she leaves her food unfinished then heads for the door.

"Oh, Hillary! Why don't you take Laura with you? Show her around town," her mother calls after her. Then she turns to Logan. "If that's alright with you."

"Yea, it's fine," Logan answers.

"Come on, squirt," Hillary calls Laura dourly.

"Oh, and don't go into the woods!", Gwen reminds her.

She just flips her mother the bird, then exits with Laura in tow.

"I'm sorry about that," Gwen apologizes to their guest. "I don't know what to do with her."

"It's alright. I understand," Logan answers. "Laura can be a handful herself sometimes."

Arthur gives him a friendly warning. "Wait till she becomes Hillary's age."

#

"Why are you so mean to your mom?", Laura asks Hillary as they walk to town.

"Because she thinks she knows everything, but she's actually stupid," Hillary answers bitterly. "Where's your mom? She dead or something?"

"I never knew her. I was told that she died right after I was born."

"Well, I know you might think that sucks. But trust me, you should consider yourself lucky."

They stop to sit at an old bench under a shed while Hillary smokes a marijuana cigarette.

"What is that?", Laura asks.

"What, you never see a joint before?", Hillary asks, but doesn't wait for an answer. "I get this from Matt, the trucker, one of our regulars. His route is through here. He gives me some weed in exchange for playing with my boobs for a couple of minutes."

"WHAT?!"

"Yea, I bargain with my tits all the time. I don't have to do homework ever again. The boys do them for me. Wait till you grow yours. You can get guys to do anything for you with those things."

Laura laughs. She never has this kind of conversation with her father. Mostly, they talk about lying low to avoid their pursuers. A part of her is starting to admire the older girl's willfulness.

"Hey, you're alright," Hillary tells her. "It's nice to talk to someone about shit like this."

"Yea, I was just thinking the same thing."

"Hey, you wanna do something really cool? I've always wanted to go into the woods, but it's too scary to go alone. Well, I'm not alone anymore, am I?"

"But your mom said not to."

"Duh! Why do you think I wanna go so much? It's because the dumb bitch told me not to. Come on, don't be such a pussy. You don't do everything your dad tells you, do you?"

"Of course not!", Laura answers defensively.

"Well, let's go then."

#

"It's cool, right?", Hillary asks as they go deeper into the woods. "Kinda reminds me of the Blairwitch Project."

"What's that?", Laura asks, and silently wonders if it's anything like the Weapon X Project.

"Oh, you don't know that? Guess your dad only lets you watch those lame ass Pixar movies, right?"

Laura still has no idea what she's talking about. But she looks around the tall trees looming ominously at them, and she is filled with an unfamiliar excitement. On the road, she had done nothing but follow her father's rules. She hadn't wanted to leave Faith's farm. Her father had decided for her. But Hillary isn't like that. Hillary disobeys her parents all the time. Hillary does whatever she wants. How Laura envies her, wants to be her.

So distracted is the young mutant by her thoughts that, in spite of her heightened senses, she fails to detect the angry lioness until it is too late.

"Oh my God!", Hillary shrieks as the large wild cat roars and leaps towards her.

Laura's instincts wake her. A pair of metal knives extend from each fist. She intercepts the lioness which rips the side of her face with its claws, right before she slashes the animal's belly. Surprised by the counter attack, the lioness falls, rolls on its side, and retreats into the thicket.

"Are you alright?", Laura asks Hillary.

Hillary stares in shock as the wounds on Laura's face miraculously heal right before her eyes.

"Oh God. You're one of them," she gasps. "You're a mutie."

Laura hates that derogatory word. But it hurts twice as much coming from someone who was just about to become a friend. Suddenly, she's glad that they left Faith's farm. Because if Faith had found out what they were and reacted the same way, the young mutant girl might not have been able to take it. It would have broken her little heart.

"Please," she begs the young human girl. "You can't tell anyone."

But the frightened teenager abruptly turns and runs! Laura races after her and tackles her to the ground.

"Get off me!", Hillary screams, punching and scratching at the little girl.

"I won't hurt you! I won't hurt you!", Laura frantically promises.

"Help! Someone! She's a mutie!"

"Hillary, please shut up and listen!"

"Somebody, help me!"

"SHUT UP!"

#

Logan sits by the window of their room at the Middle of Nowhere Hotel, wishing that he had a beer. There were no available jobs in town. At least none that he could leave at a moment's notice. He allows himself to wonder if it's OK to stop running now, that they're far away enough from their pursuers, that they'll never be found here. But he knows it just isn't true. Their enemies will never stop looking for them.

"Daddy?", he hears Laura's trembling voice.

He turns and finds her, shaking like a leaf in the doorway, blood all over her face and the front of her shirt. Logan instantly rushes to her, checking her for injuries.

"What happened?! Are you hurt?!", he asks. "Who did this?! Was it them?!"

"I didn't mean to," she answers. "I told her to shut up. She just wouldn't shut up."

Then Logan realizes that this wasn't her blood.

"Take me to her," he tells his daughter.

#

Back in the woods, they stare down in silence at Hillary's corpse, her throat slashed open.

"What are we going to do?", Laura worriedly asks.

"It's too clean," her father answers. Then his claws pop out.

"Daddy, no," Laura whimpers.

"Laura, go back to the room and wash up. Wait for me there. Make sure nobody sees you on your way back."

Laura nods and reluctantly obeys.

After she has left, Logan turns his attention back on Hillary. She was a pretty girl, well on her way to becoming a beautiful woman. And now he has to rip her flesh apart to make it seem like an animal had killed her.

In his long life, Logan has brutally killed over a thousand people. But he has never been as sickened by anything else that he has done, when compared to what he is about to do next.

#

"Again," Logan commands, as they sit facing each other back at the hotel room.

"We went into the woods. It was Hillary's idea," Laura responds. "Then this mountain lion came from out of nowhere."

"What did you do?"

"I got scared and ran."

"What about Hillary?"

"I don't know. She was right behind me."

"Again."

#

After rehearsal, when Logan is sure that his daughter sounds convincing, Laura recites her lines to the Pinkertons. A small search party of men armed with hunting rifles is immediately organized. Logan volunteers his services as a tracker. He already knows where Hillary is, so he maneuvers the group in her general direction. But he lets someone else discover the body, so that it won't be too obvious.

Arthur is devastated, as any father would be after seeing his daughter in such a state, especially in the condition Logan had secretly left her corpse in. But when the others tell the grieving father to go back home to inform and comfort his wife, he refuses.

"No!", he stubbornly insists. "Not until I've killed the beast that took my little girl from me!"

Logan feels a pang of guilt at his words. And he's grateful that Laura isn't there to hear it.

"But Arthur, it's getting too dark," Matt, the trucker, tries to reason with the man. "It's too dangerous to hunt a wild animal now."

"No, it's alright," Logan says. "The rest of you take Hillary back into town. I'll go with him."

"Thank you, Logan," Arthur says.

The truth is, Logan knows that the lioness is wounded and suffering, and that makes the animal twice as dangerous. It has to be put down now before it can hurt anyone.

"Well, you're gonna need a rifle then," Matt tells him. "Here. You can borrow mine."

"Thanks, Bub," Logan replies, taking the weapon.

He leads Arthur deeper into the woods. Tracking the lioness would be easy. He can smell her blood. After an hour of trekking in near total darkness, Logan abruptly stops.

"What is it?", Arthur asks.

"Shhh!", Logan whispers. "It's somewhere here."

The lioness springs out from behind the shrubbery. The pain of its injury has driven it mad. She intends to share this pain with as many as she can before her pending death. And these two trespassers are a good start.

In the dark, Arthur never sees the lioness. He never realizes how close he is to being torn apart just like his ill-fated daughter.

But Logan is different. He can see in the dark nearly as well as, if not better than, the lioness herself. He raises his rifle and shoots her in midair. She is dead before she hits the ground.

The clouds uncover the moon, and now Arthur can see his prey. He pounces on the carcass, repeatedy smashing the butt of his rifle on the poor, dead animal's head.

"You monster!", he wails. "You killed her! You killed my little girl!"

Logan stands back and allows the man to let out his frustration. Inwardly, the mutant thanks and apologizes to the dead creature for taking the fall for his daughter.

#

Hillary's death becomes big news in the small, quiet town nearby. People start asking about what kind of animal could have left the two parallel wounds on the lioness' stomach. And with questions like that, Logan knew it was time to leave. He explains to the Pinkertons about how Laura was traumatized by the event, and that it would be best for her to be some place else where she can forget the horrible incident.

They check out, and soon father and daughter are back on the road. While driving, Logan glances at Laura, and a voice in his head tells him that Laura is no different than the wounded lioness, that this world is too hard for her, that she needs to be put down before she can hurt anyone else.

But Logan doesn't listen to that voice. He doesn't listen because, while he's not the type to say it, he loves her more than anything. And he would let the whole world burn before it could harm a single hair on her head.

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
